


Five Minutes for Fighting (Your Way into My Heart)

by buoyantsaturn



Series: Two Minutes for Hooking [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: College Hockey, M/M, goalie frank, hockey player nico, its a hockey au i love hockey, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 10:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buoyantsaturn/pseuds/buoyantsaturn
Summary: He blinked his eyes open, glaring up at Will. “Who the hell are you?”“I’m the medic you’ve been avoiding every practice,” Will answered. “Who the hell are you?”





	Five Minutes for Fighting (Your Way into My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> ok so like 1. i love hockey  
> 2\. this is possibly gonna seem kinda choppy??? thats bc it is??? its sectioned into 3 parts bc i wrote it in 3 separate parts and i wrote the 3rd part first so like it might seem a little repetitive and maybe a little weird??? but like i love hockey and i love this au so i hope u do too so here it is

Will had watched number twelve get smashed into the boards at least fifteen times already, but those had all been with a helmet on. The _sixteenth_ time, the helmet had gone flying from one hit, and his head had hit the partition glass on the next.

The player crumbled, and play stopped. Two other players, one defense and one forward, if Will remembered correctly, brought number twelve out to the bench, head lolling on his shoulders and skates motionlessly gliding across the ice.

“You’re the medic tonight, right?” one of the players asked Will. “Where do you want him?”

Will stuttered for a second before asking, “Can we clear off the bench?” to the others there. Once everyone was standing, number twelve was laid across the bench, Will tugging at his eyelids and shining a light into them.

In a second, the penlight was knocked out of his hand, and number twelve was groaning and rubbing at his head. He blinked his eyes open, glaring up at Will. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the medic you’ve been avoiding every practice,” Will answered. “Who the hell are you?”

That apparently hadn’t been the right thing to say, because number twelve’s glare intensified and he sat up quicking, pushing himself so close that Will had to back up a bit. “Who the hell am _I?”_

“di Angelo, shut up and let the medic work,” one of the coaches ordered, and twelve backed off a little.

“di Angelo,” Will repeated, reaching down to pick up his light. “You have a first name?”

di Angelo frowned, and Will figured his cheeks were just getting pinker because of the cold of the rink. “Are you flirting with me?”

Will rolled his eyes. “I’m asking you questions to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

di Angelo glanced away with a quiet, “oh,” and Will had a hard time believing that it was supposed to sound as disappointed as it did.

“Well?” Will prompted. “What’s your name?”

“Nico,” di Angelo answered, and after half a moment, asked, “What’s _your_ name?”

“Will Solace,” the medic answered. “Are _you_ flirting with _me,_ now?”

“No!” Nico answered, a bit too quickly.

Will rolled his eyes and shined the light in Nico’s once more. “It looks like you have a minor concussion. You’ll be out for the rest of this game, and I’ll be taking you to a hospital to have someone look into it.”

“What? No, I’m not skipping the rest of the game!” Nico argued. “And I’m not going to a hospital, either. I’m fine! I’m going back out there as soon as I get my helmet back!”

“Fine, you’re out this game and the next one,” Will told him. “Let me just tell your coaches that you’ve just benched yourself an extra night.”

Will stood up from his crouch, turning in the direction of the coaches, but Nico grabbed his jacket sleeve. “Stop! Fine, I’ll go to a hospital. Just don’t keep me benched.”

Will cracked a smile. “Good. Now go get your things and we’ll leave.”

“I can’t miss the rest of the game!”

“There’s ten minutes left,” Will told him, glancing at the clock. “I’m sure if you pack up quickly then you can catch the last minute or so as we’re walking out the door.”

Nico growled, rising from the bench. “You’re a piece of shit.” He turned toward the locker room and went to change out of his gear. He texted his sister while packing up his things, telling her to pick him up from the hospital nearest the rink as soon as possible.

He threw his bag over his shoulder before marching back out to the ice in his civilian clothes, just in time to see his teammates score the winning goal of the night, three seconds under the timer.

Nico stood at the edge of the rink, bending over the little half wall dividing the bench from the ice, and held out a hand for his teammates to high five on their way past.

“Leaving so soon, Nico?” Frank asked as he skated up.

Nico’s hand tightened on the strap of his bag. “Yeah, Mr. Ball-of-Sunshine over there is forcing me to go to the hospital.”

Frank grinned. “Ball of Sunshine, huh? So you think he’s cute then, eh?”

“What the hell? No!”

“Nico, c’mon, hospital,” Will called, already packed up and ready to leave.

Nico rolled his eyes. “See you at the next practice, Frank,” he said. “If I’m not dead first.” He shuffled in Will’s direction, intentionally keeping his head angled down, partly because the light was bothering his eyes, and partly because he didn’t really want to look at Will at the moment.

“Hospitals really aren’t that bad, Nico,” Will said as they walked, trying to strike up a conversation. “If I’m lucky, I’m going to be working in one in a few years.”

Nico glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re going to be a doctor?”

“Yeah,” Will said, and Nico could see the smile in his blue eyes. He realized what he was doing and focused his gaze back to the ground.

“Good luck with that, I guess,” Nico muttered, and watched the ice as they walked. When he spoke again, he hoped that it was quiet enough that Will wouldn’t hear: “You seem like you’re gonna be a great doctor.”

Nico didn’t see it, but Will smiled at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Practice was kicking Nico’s _ass._

It seemed like every move he made was a mistake; a lunge turned into a trip, a slap shot turned to a whiff, a check ending up with Nico smashing himself into the boards.

When Nico took a dive near the goal that Frank was tending, Frank suggested, “Maybe you should take a break for a minute, Nico. Go over to the medic stand or something and make sure you haven’t broken anything.”

“I’m fine,” Nico snarled, slowly slipping to his feet. He kept his gaze away from the medic stand, where _he_ was sitting - Mr. Ball-of-Sunshine, with his stupid hair and the big sweaters he always wore and the brightest smile Nico had ever _seen--_

Nico was fine. He kept skating.

Apparently, though, the rink’s usual medic was out sick, which meant that The Sun Himself _(“It’s not a compliment, Frank, he’s too bright! Nobody’s_ that _blond!”)_ would be sitting in on the game, _watching them._

From the start of the game, Nico could feel eyes on him. Of course there were eyes on him, the rink sat at least a thousand and Nico was the starting center, not to mention that the game was probably being recorded. He didn’t mean any of those eyes. He meant the blue irises that were so clear he could see them across the rink, the ones lined with long, dark lashes and surrounded by freckled skin.

Nico tapped the end of his stick against his helmet, trying to clear his thoughts. This was not the time for this, there was _never_ a time for _this._

He readjusted his weight on his skates and waited for the puck to drop.

 

 _This game_ was kicking Nico’s ass.

He felt like he couldn’t move right, like somebody was pulling at his limbs with strings. He couldn’t remember ever playing this bad in his _life._ They were down by five, Nico had almost gone to the box twice already, and they were nearing the end of the second period.

A whistle blew. A timeout was called, and Nico was waved over to the benches. He tried to keep his eyes on the coaches and away from _him_ as he skated over, stopping at the boards.

“di Angelo,” one of the two coaches barked, “get your head out of your ass! What’s wrong with you?”

Nico ducked his head in an attempt to hide his glare. “Sorry.”

“If you’re sorry,” the other coach told him, “then _play better.”_

“Yes, coach,” Nico hissed through gritted teeth. He started to skate away, back to the center, but froze. He barely glanced back over his shoulder before he was racing back to the bench. He pointed at Will with the end of his stick. “You! Come here.”

Will, startled, hopped up from his seat and stepped up to the boards as Nico yanked off his helmet, shoving it into Will’s chest. “Hold that.”

“What?” Will said, holding his hands out but not quite accepting the helmet.

Nico pressed it harder into his sternum. “Take it!” He grabbed Will by the collar of his sweater. “Can you not follow simple directions, you piece of shit,” he growled, pulling Will down and forcing their lips together. It was less of a kiss and more of Nico tugging at Will’s lip with his teeth, but even so, Nico pulled himself away much sooner than he would’ve prefered.

Will’s eyes were wide and pretty, sparkling almost. His skin was flushed a light pink, and Nico knew that it wasn’t from the cold.

Nico smirked, dropping his hands to his helmet and tugging it back from Will, collecting his stick and returning to center ice.

He hadn’t felt so calm for _weeks_.

 

The game tied, so they went to a shoot out. Nico scored two of three shots, and the other team only managed one. Down by five at the start of the third period, yet still won the game. Nico didn’t think he’d ever been happier.

He started off the ice toward the locker room, teammates jostling him on every side and cheering for him. He ended up being pushed around so much that he almost missed feeling a hand wrap around his arm, pulling him out of the group and into the wall of the tunnel leading down to the locker room.

The team continued on without him, but Will, still with a grip on his arm, stood in front of him and kept him from moving.

“What was that?” Will asked.

Nico’s wide eyed look of shock melted away to a glare, though he couldn’t quite direct the look at Will, and glanced away. “What was what?”

Will groaned, and Nico’s eyes flicked back to him, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re the only piece of shit here,” Will said before ducking down to kiss him - a real kiss, this time, not just teeth and breath. When Will didn’t feel Nico pushing him away, he let his grip loosen, hands slipping down to Nico’s waist.

Nico’s hands went to Will’s chest, not pushing but simply resting there, and he made a noise against Will’s mouth. Not a moan, not a good noise, but something unhappy, and Will pulled himself back. Before he could even ask what was wrong, Nico was ripping off one of his gloves with his teeth and tugging at the other with his newly freed hand. He dropped both gloves, bringing his hands back up to Will’s chest, but this time gripping the sweater with his fingers.

“You’re a lot taller with your skates on,” Will told him, and Nico rolled his eyes. Nico’s cold, thin fingers brushed against Will’s cheek, and the blond flinched. “Your hands are so cold!”

Nico tried to stop himself from smiling. “Shut _up,”_ he muttered, and pulled Will back down, making sure to keep his cold fingers pressed against Will’s skin.

 

* * *

 

Will had only started going to the hockey games because it was required of him. He’d needed a medical internship to pass one of his classes, and the one he’d been assigned happened to be with the emergency medic at the nearby hockey rink.

For most of every week, Will sat bored and cold as he watched little kids take skating classes. Every so often, he would bandage a scraped chin that had made contact with the ice, or would babysit a kid that had fallen down so many times that they refused to participate any longer.

Twice a week, though, the college hockey team would be there for practice. Will had a hard time believing that they only practiced twice a week, but considering how good all of them were, he guessed that maybe they didn’t need any extra time.

Hockey practice amazed him. He never got to watch actual adults (aside from the occasional class instructor) _really_ skate, and the hockey players all moved so flawlessly across the ice.

Will had always assumed that hockey was something aggressive - like rugby but colder - but the way these players moved made him assume otherwise. Of course, everyone there was on the same team, and no one would want to injure their teammates, but even with the occasional trip or fall or check, the players got up. They kept moving as if nothing happened, and kept playing.

Hockey practice was Will’s favorite part of the week, even if he was still sitting cold and a little bored. He might’ve even found his new favorite sport.

One night, a Saturday that Will had had off, his mentor called him, asking if he could be at the rink in their place. Will had agreed, thinking that he had another night of skating lessons ahead of him, but when he arrived at the rink to see the parking lot full of cars, he knew something had to be different.

He’d walked in, immediately approached by one of the coaches for the home team, who was making sure Will was there to work and not to watch. And while Will _was_ there to work, he was definitely ready to watch, too.

 

A year later, after Will had passed his class and had developed a relationship with one of the players, he kept attending the games - sometimes just watching, sometimes working as well, but always there.

The game that night - Will was working at the time - reminded him a lot of the first he’d ever seen: violent, aggressive, and painful to watch, yet he couldn’t take his eyes away.

Everyone on both teams was full of energy, racing across the ice and smashing each other into the boards. From Will’s front row seat, he watched plenty of heads get thrown into the partition glass. Mostly one head in particular.

Number twelve, Will’s boyfriend, was probably the smallest on the team, but that just meant that everyone underestimated him at first glance. And while they underestimated, he checked them out of his way.

And for every hit Nico made, two more came his way.

Nico chased after the other team, getting his stick knocked out of his hand but still charging forward. He checked his opponent - twice his size - into the boards, and got his helmet thrown off in return. Another member of the opposing team came up on Nico’s other side, and the two of them slammed Nico into the boards, head bouncing off the glass.

The two went on towards the net, scoring their first point of the night as Nico crumbled to the ice.

Will shot to his feet the second Nico stopped moving. “Stop the play,” Will called, but he was ignored. A ref started to skate past, and Will grabbed his sleeve from over the half wall. “Stop the clock, I need to get out there.” He pointed across the ice to where Nico still hadn’t gotten up.

The ref rolled his eyes, but made some kind of hand motion that must’ve signaled a timeout. Will grabbed his small bag of medical supplies and jumped the wall, tennis shoes slipping on the ice as he hurried across the rink.

A few of Nico’s teammates had gathered around him, but Will called, “Don’t touch him!” He dropped to his knees, sliding about a foot and ending up at Nico’s side. His boyfriend was face down on the ice, eyes shut but still breathing. “Help me turn him on his back,” he said to the players surrounding him. “Carefully, don’t twist his spine.”

Will took Nico’s head in his hands, holding it steady and turning it as his body was moved. Will shifted until he could easily shine a light into Nico’s eyes and check his pupils. As he did so, one of the refs skated over. “Would you mind moving this off the ice so we can get back into play?”

Will’s head snapped up. _“Excuse me?”_

“We’ve got a game to play,” the ref continued, and Will jumped to his feet.

“There is a player _unconscious_ on the ice,” Will growled in the ref’s face. “He _will not_ be moved until I know that it’s safe.”

“I can and _will_ have you removed from this game,” the ref threatened.

“You can’t _remove_ me, I’m the medic!”

Will surged forward, hands balled into fists, but strong hands held him back. He glanced over his shoulder to see the goalie, Frank, standing behind him. “Will, this isn’t the time.”

Will huffed, backing off and crossing his arms. “Is there any way we can get a stretcher out here to carry him off without possibly furthering his injuries?”

“You’re the medic,” the ref mocked, “how the hell should I know? Get him out of here in the next two minutes or the team forfeits.”

The ref skated away, and Will turned back to his boyfriend, still unconscious on the ice. Will knelt, placing his hands gently against Nico’s skull and softly pressing his fingers to different spots. “I don’t feel any fractures, which is good,” Will said to the team still surrounding him. “But I don’t want to risk moving him without a stretcher.” Will looked up. “I don’t want to force you guys to forfeit, though, either.”

Frank rest a hand on Will’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Will,” he told him. “We wouldn’t wanna play without Nico there to insult us, anyway.”

“Heard that,” came a low voice from the ice. With it was a slow moving hand swatting at Will’s. “Quit touching me, hurts.”

“Nico?” Will asked, carefully pulling his hands back. “Are you okay? How do you feel? Can you wiggle your toes for me?”

Nico glared up at him. “This seems awfully familiar,” he muttered, cracking a smile.

“Reminisce later,” one of Nico’s teammates called, “we’ve got a game to play.”

“Right,” Nico said, and moved to push himself up, but Will held his shoulders against the ice.

“Wiggle your toes,” Will ordered, and Nico rolled his eyes, but complied. “Alright, now let’s get you off the ice. Frank, can you give me a hand?”

Together, Frank and Will pulled Nico to his feet and helped him glide back to the bench. A cheer went up from the crowd. They settled Nico on the bench, Will sitting next to him and Frank returning to the ice. Nico’s stick and helmet were brought to them after a short moment.

“You know you’re out for the rest of the game, right?” Will said, wrapping an arm around Nico’s waist.

Nico’s head fell onto his shoulder. “Yeah, I figured. No use arguing after last time.”

“You’re still going to the hospital, though,” Will said, and Nico groaned. “And _unlike_ last time, you have somebody to force you to go, now.”

“You forced me last time,” Nico mumbled, eyes following the movement of the puck as the play restarted.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you walked out of the waiting room as soon as I left.”

Nico smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! theres another part to this series coming eventually thats a whole lot more fluff and relationship than this was!!! i love hockey!!!!


End file.
